Chapter Fourteen

Raisa

“Commander?!” My eyes fly wide. Really? Commander? When heat flares in my core, I realize I can’t wait to try it out. “I belong to you…” I only pause here because I want to make him wait for it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a brat. “Commander.”

His chuckle mocks me, but instead of irritating me, it just turns me on.

Durga’s eyes light both in satisfaction and hunger.

“Take off everything but your panties.”

I hesitate for a moment, but the need to please him, to submit to his dominance, overwhelms any doubts I may have. Slowly, I unbutton my shirt, revealing the lacey bralette underneath. I slide the shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as I stand before him in just my bra and jeans.

As Durga’s eyes roam hungrily over my exposed skin, I can feel the heat building between us. I push aside my vulnerability and focus on the sparks arcing between us.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Now jeans and bra.”

With shaky hands, I unbutton my jeans and slowly slide them down, revealing my black lace panties that match the bralette. As I step out of the jeans and discard my bra, I try to ignore the self-consciousness creeping in, reminding myself that Durga wants me like this, desires me in this vulnerable state.

“I want you in that corner,” he commands, gesturing toward a corner of the room. “Face it and inch so close your nipples touch the walls.”

I’ve never done this before, don’t know the most basic ground rules of dominants and submissives—if that’s even what’s going on here. I just can’t keep myself from asking, “Am I being punished?” Frankly, it doesn’t feel fair. Haven’t I done everything he’s asked?

“Just the opposite. When we’re done tonight, be sure to tell me if you feel punished… or rewarded. In the meantime, if you keep stalling, that’s disobedience, and for that you will be punished.”

I move hesitantly toward the designated corner and position myself with one nipple touching each wall. It’s cool to the touch and sends a shiver snaking up my spine. I thought I’d hate this, but it’s so sexy my nipples could drill holes in the drywall.

My heart pounds when I hear his heavy step approach. I don’t know how, but I feel his gaze on me. Every nerve in my being is on edge, my arousal heightening with each passing second. Instead of making me uncomfortable, it’s thrilling that as he stalks toward me, what he sees through those glinting amber eyes is what he considers to be his.

Standing so close behind me, his breath grazes my ear as he says, “Lift your hair off your neck.”

I raise my hands and gather my long, dark hair, lifting it up and away from my neck, exposing my skin to the cool air. It’s an intimate act, one that leaves me feeling even more vulnerable.

Durga steps even closer, his fingers grazing my bare shoulders as they trail down to my exposed collarbone. His touch is gentle, but I can sense the underlying power.

“Now, dear Raisa,” he whispers, his deep voice whipping through me like a dark tornado, “I’m going to touch you wherever I please.”

I nod, my voice failing me, though he didn’t ask for and doesn’t need my consent. The anticipation is almost unbearable as I wait for his next move, knowing he holds all the power, and I’m completely at his mercy.

Durga’s hands travel slowly down my arms, sending shivers of anticipation through me. His touch is gentle and possessive, as though he’s claiming every inch of my skin as his own. As his hands reach my wrists, he circles them, like handcuffs. The move is so blatantly possessive I get that ridiculous weak-in-the-knees feeling that reminds me just how big he is and just how small I am next to him.

“Such delicate wrists,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “So fragile.” His lips track down my neck, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

My heart races, the combination of fear and desire making me dizzy.

Durga’s fingers dance along the underside of my arms, causing goosebumps to erupt along my skin. He avoids my breasts and the wet heat between my legs, driving me to the edge of desperation. His touch is deliberate, calculated, making me ache for more.

“Tell me, Raisa,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my jawline. “Do you enjoy being at my mercy? Do you crave my touch?”

The words escape my lips before I can even think. “Yes,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, what?” His tone is so gentle, but there’s steel underneath.

“Yes, Commander.”

Durga’s grip on my wrists tightens, asserting his dominance. He raises my arms, fingers still clutching my hair as instructed, and places my hands on my head. “Keep them there.” He releases my wrists and my hands stay in place.

“Good,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness. “From now on, your pleasure belongs solely to me. I am the commander of your desires.”

The possessiveness in his words sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My legs tremble as his hands continue their exploration, gliding over my hips and down my thighs. I bite my lip to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. My body has a mind of its own.

Durga’s fingers teasingly graze the damp fabric of my panties. “So eager,” he murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I can feel how wet you are for me.”

I can’t hold back any longer. “Please,” I whimper, my voice filled with need. “Please touch me.”

“We do this at my speed, Raisa. On my timetable. I don’t know how long I’ll make you dance on the edge of desire, but it won’t be before your honey is dripping down your thighs.

Durga’s hands move to the waistband of my panties, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure as I anticipate a quick release. Instead of pulling them down, he lifts them up, creating a wedgie with the fabric inside my slick crease.

I gasp at the pleasure this hint of pressure provides. The huge hand clutching the fabric at my belly tugs harder, snugging my panties against my clit. I’m already so desperately horny, that move pulls a soft moan from me.

When he makes the merest flossing motion, front to back, I lean against him, needing the wall of his strength to keep me standing.

Just as quickly as he started, he changes directions and pulls the fabric down. The move is agonizingly slow, his palms caressing every inch they touch on their slide downward until the fabric pools around my ankles. Now I’m completely exposed, vulnerable to his every whim.

He steps back slightly, giving me a moment to adjust to the sudden loss of his touch. My body aches for him, but I know better than to expect anything. Durga is the one in control. I must submit to his desires.

I take a deep breath and steady myself against the wall. The air feels cool against my bare skin, but my body radiates heat and need. I can sense Durga’s presence behind me, the anticipation building to its breaking point.

His voice, low and full of authority, cuts the silence. “Keep your hands on your head, Raisa. Just as I instructed.”

Durga’s fingertips graze my lower back, tracing delicate lines across my skin. His touch is electrifying, igniting sparks that travel straight to my core. I gasp, unable to control the surge of pleasure flooding my body.

He continues his exploration, his long, thick orc tongue following the same paths his fingers traced. The sensation is intoxicating, a mixture of rough and sensual that sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. His tusks graze my skin, leaving a fleeting imprint of his presence.

I pant and writhe against the wall, my body yearning for more. My movements scrape my nipples against the walls, just adding fuel to the fire of my arousal. Every touch, every stroke of his tongue and tusks, the soft cascade of his braids, it all ratchets my desire higher. I can feel my arousal building, my cream beginning to drip, just as he predicted.

Durga’s deep, rumbling purr fills the room, soothing and calming my racing heart. His praise, whispered against my ear, sends shivers of pleasure down my spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”

I cling to his words, seeking solace in his approval. His touch, his praise, it’s all I need. I surrender myself completely to him, making the moment even more exciting.

But just as I’m almost to my breaking point, Durga pulls away, leaving me panting and desperate for his touch. I hear the sound of his footsteps retreating, a mix of amusement and satisfaction laced in his voice as he chides, “Patience, my dear Raisa. We have all night.”

I’m left standing here, my hair still in my hands, my nipples tracing invisible patterns on the walls with every heaving breath. I’m consumed by a whirlwind of desire and anticipation and can hardly bear the ache within me, but I know Durga is in control. Oddly, as my need for him grows, so does my trust.